


Have You Seen the Mistletoe

by wingedspirit



Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Anathema Has Had Enough, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedspirit/pseuds/wingedspirit
Summary: It's the December after Armageddon't, and Crowley and Aziraphale are still pining. Anathema's had enough.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Series: Winter 2019 Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560823
Comments: 7
Kudos: 250
Collections: Aziraphale's Library Festive Fic Recs





	Have You Seen the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [drawlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drawlight)’s [advent calendar prompt list](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been) (day 1, mistletoe).

If Anathema had been asked, before it all went down, to make a list of what she expected of the world after Armageddon was averted, an enduring friendship with a demon would have been nowhere on that list. Especially not when the demon in question is the Serpent of Eden, original tempter of humanity.

But Crowley is very, very far from what you’d expect a demon to be — from what other demons actually _are_ , if the only other one she’s seen, at the airbase, is any indication. He is certainly wicked, and he has a mischievous streak a mile wide; but — though she knows better than to say so to his face — he is also very kind, and actually rather sweet.

If it weren’t for Crowley, she doesn’t think she’d still be here in Tadfield, let alone still in a happy relationship with Newt. She’d called him in tears one September afternoon, for lack of anyone else to call. Normally she’d have called Madame Tracy, but she’d been worried that anything she’d say might get back to Newt via Shadwell; which left Crowley or Aziraphale; and she’d reasoned that, of the two, the demon might give her better, more honest advice, although she can’t remember, now, how she’d come to that conclusion.

Either way, she’d called Crowley, and had managed to blurt out all her fears about being too different from Newt to make the relationship work, and how she may as well break up with him now and save the both of them some heartache. Crowley had listened, and then he’d very efficiently talked her down from that particular metaphorical ledge; and then he’d kept talking to her, for more than an hour, as she slowly calmed down. She’d been in the middle of apologising to him for taking up so much of his time when she’d heard him laying on the horn of the Bentley — both through the phone, and right outside her window.

“Come on, book girl,” he’d said, “we’re going out.”

They’d gone to Oxford, and they’d talked more, first over dinner, then over drinks. They’ve done the same several times since, at least once every fortnight. Her relationship with Newt is going very well, and she’s happier than she ever remembers being before.

She only wishes she could say the same for Crowley.

Any occultist worth her salt would be able to sense the love rolling off the demon in waves when Aziraphale is nearby — Anathema certainly does — but somehow the angel doesn’t seem to notice it; and Crowley refused to believe her when she told him she’d sensed love for him emanating from Aziraphale, as well. “I’m a demon, he’s an angel,” he’d said, with a shrug, when she’d pressed further. “It’ll never work out. We’re too different.”

It didn’t seem to occur to him that it was a similar issue to the one she’d had with Newt; he didn’t seem particularly inclined to take his own advice. She honestly has no idea how she managed to keep from leaping over the pub table to very literally shake some sense into him.

And so, the two idiots — and what even is her life, that she gets to know an angel and a demon well enough to know for a fact that, at least in this, they’re idiots? — continue to pine for each other.

According to what Crowley’s told her, they have been dancing around each other for _thousands of years_. And yes, of course they spent all that time unable to act on their feelings due to technically being on opposite sides, but that’s over now.

It’s been _months_ , and she’s entirely fed up with it.

So she’s taking matters into her own hands.

* * *

When Crowley and Aziraphale arrive at Jasmine Cottage for a very early winter solstice celebration, everything is in place.

She leads the pair into the cottage and to the living room, making sure to stay several steps ahead of them and passing through the doorway alone. They make to follow her, and then freeze, looking up at the doorway.

She knows what they’re seeing. She’s covered the doorway entirely in mistletoe, making sure it’s impossible to avoid passing under it.

The look Crowley gives her is utterly betrayed. “What’s this then, witch?”

She lifts her chin and refuses to back down. “It’s tradition. You’re familiar, surely. It brings good luck if people kiss under the mistletoe.”

Crowley scoffs and moves forward, clearly intending to walk through the doorway alone; but Aziraphale grabs his hand and stops him, just as he comes to stand under the mistletoe, and then steps forward to join him there.

Crowley freezes. “Angel?”

Aziraphale is blushing furiously. “My dear boy — it’s tradition, after all.”

“You know it’s superstitious nonsense, Aziraphale, why would — _ngk_.”

Anathema does not laugh at the strangled noise Crowley makes when Aziraphale pulls him into a kiss; but she does smile when the kiss turns from an awkward, one-sided thing into a true one.

Then she turns away and walks further into the living room, and settles down to read, on the sofa that she knows is entirely out of line of sight from the doorway. It’ll be at least one hour before anyone else arrives — that will hopefully be enough time.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Enya’s “White Is in the Winter Night”](https://genius.com/Enya-white-is-in-the-winter-night-lyrics).
> 
> I can, as ever, be found on [Tumblr](https://wingedspirit.tumblr.com/).


End file.
